The Barn
by Iluvff
Summary: Hawaii Five-O Original Series Story: Friend becomes foe as Danny and the Five-O team land on opposite sides of a dangerous standoff.
1. Chapter 1

**Hawaii Five-O, Original Series, 1968-1980**

**The Barn, Chapter 1**

In the big office of the Hawaii Five-O suite in Iolani Palace, Steve McGarrett and his team were going over the case file for the latest gang war casualty. This was the umpteenth time they had read through the file, looking for clues they had missed. It had been a frustrating day—for all but one of them anyway.

One man was missing from the office ohana—it was Danny's day off. He had been in briefly early in the morning to turn in some reports, then left happily and hurriedly before he got drawn into the ongoing discussions of this case or that arrest or the brainstorming session about trapping their least favorite criminals. After all, everybody needs a break once in a while. But for Chin and Ben, and especially Steve, when Danny wasn't there everything always seemed a little off.

The subdued comments and ideas bantered back and forth were shortly interrupted by the ringing of Steve's phone. He wasn't expecting anything big to break, but then again he knew, in his line of work, to expect the unexpected. He knew Jenny was at lunch, so he casually answered in his usual brusque tone, "McGarrett."

An unfamiliar male voice responded, "Yes, sir, I…uh, I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. McGarrett. My name is David Christopher, and I have a little ranch about 10 miles outside of Honolulu."

"Yes, Mr. Christopher, what can I do for you?" Steve replied in his most diplomatic, servant of the people, manner. Inside, he was thinking, _A ranch? Lucky man, but I'll bet he needs to be talking to HPD about whoever trespassed on his property, or whatever small-time problem he has._

"Well, sir, I really didn't know who else to call…. You see, I'm a friend of Dan Williams."

"Oh, I see. If you're looking for Danno, I'm afraid he's not here today," Steve answered succinctly.

"Oh, no, sir, I know that. I know where he is. He's here at my ranch. But there's a problem…."

_Problem?_ Alarms started ringing in Steve's consciousness. His eyes lost their casual outlook and darted up toward Chin and Ben in surprise. "What kind of problem, Mr. Christopher?"

"I let Danny ride my horses whenever he wants. He comes and goes as he pleases. This morning, he went horseback riding, and I happened to see him come back a little later, but he was on foot. I went to the barn to check on him, and he wouldn't let me in. Mr. McGarrett, I've known Danny for years, and it just didn't sound like him at all. I'm really worried about him."

"What do you mean, 'it didn't sound' like him? What did he say?" Steve was trying not to overreact, to get the whole picture clearly in his mind before he reacted a little or a lot. But his instinct told him that this man was on the level and genuinely concerned for Danny.

"He was very angry, and I've never even seen Danny raise his voice before. I hate to say it out loud, Mr. McGarrett, it sounds so strange, but—well, he threatened me with a gun if I came any closer to the barn—my own barn!"

"He threatened you?" Steve was aghast at the thought that Danny would without provocation turn on a friend. "Does he even have his gun with him?"

"I wouldn't doubt it. He takes it sometimes when he goes riding. Says he's shot a wild pig or two on my property," David continued. "Listen, should I call the local police for help?"

"No, no! Please don't! Let us handle this. What is your address?" Steve responded crisply, then wrote down the directions. "We're on our way. Just keep your distance from that barn until we get there!"

"Yes, sir."

Steve slammed down the phone and grabbed the paper with the address on it. Gesturing toward Chin and Ben, he ordered, "Let's go!"

Chin spoke up, "Where're we going?"

Steve talked on the run as he snagged his jacket by the collar, "Danno's in trouble. Come on!"


	2. Chapter 2

Coming to the end of the long dirt road past the ranch's front gate, Steve skidded the black Mercury to a stop on seeing a man he assumed to be the owner David Christopher, who had been waiting at the roadside for the arrival of the men he had summoned.

From the car's window, Steve asked, "Mr. Christopher?" to verify the man's identity.

"Yes, Mr. McGarrett! I'm so glad you're here!" Christopher, an older man who looked to be educated and enjoying a vigorous retirement, was sweating in the midday sun and obviously anxious.

"Where is he?"

Gesturing with his hand beyond the driveway, Mr. Christopher explained, "You see that barn further up there to the far right of the house? That's where Danny is! I've kept my distance since I called you, and I haven't seen or heard anything else, and he hasn't come out."

Steve questioned, "Is there anyone in the barn with him?"

"No, sir. Just horses. I was in the barn earlier before Danny came back from riding, and I've been outside all day right around here. I would have seen anyone else."

"Did you see him when he first got here? Did he seem OK then?"

"Absolutely! We talked for a while—nothing important, but he seemed fine—just like his usual self. Not like now.…"

"So something must have happened on his ride…," Steve wondered aloud. "Maybe he was thrown from the horse."

"It's possible. He took one of my newer horses, one he hasn't ridden before, but I haven't had any trouble out of her. And Danny knows how to control a horse."

"Listen, you can help us. Do you know how to use a walkie-talkie?"

Christopher nodded confidently, "Sure, I'm an old military hand."

"Ben, give him one of our units," Steve called out toward Ben in the back seat. "Mr. Christopher, we need you to go back down to your gate and man the entrance to your ranch. Don't let anyone, anyone, in—no one, not even any other police, without our OK! Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I'll do anything if it will help Danny."

"So would we." Glancing at Christopher before driving off toward the barn, Steve thanked him gratefully.

The barn was a simple wooden structure, but very tall and large for boarding horses, with two huge swinging doors facing the front.

Steve tried to think positively._ Maybe whatever confusion Danno had suffered is over. Maybe he's fine now. Or maybe Christopher misunderstood. _But caution was definitely called for. Steve remained near the Mercury and tested the waters of communication by shouting toward the barn.

"Danno? Are you in there?"

From the barn, there was no sound except the calm neighing of horses from within.

Louder still, Steve yelled, "Danno, can you hear me? Are you in there?"

There was a rustling of noise this time, and a voice croaked out toughly and more gravelly than the familiar tone he was hoping for. "Stay away! How do you know my name?"

_How do I know his name?_ Steve turned toward Chin and Ben behind the car and stared at them in confusion. "It's him, Steve," Chin announced, although Steve didn't need the confirmation. He knew.

Steve stood still as a stone and looked down. He was unexpectedly empty of words. What to say to such hostile words from a friend?

"Answer me! How do you know who I am?" the hidden, angry, voice spoke again.

Finding his own voice, Steve spoke up, "Danno, it's me." Suddenly believing that that statement was not enough, he added, "It's Steve." _Still not enough. _"Steve McGarrett."

"Don't come any closer! I'll shoot!" The words of warning were dangerously spoken, with no hint of recognition of the name or voice of the one who had come to retrieve him from whatever fearful sphere he had found himself.

"Danno, what's happened to you? Are you hurt?"

This, his most burning question, was met with dreaded silence.

"Danno, don't you know who we are? It's Steve, and Chin, and Ben-we've come to help you. Your friend David Christopher called us. This is his ranch. Those are his horses…."

"Go away and leave me alone! I know the kind of help you want to give me! I won't go without a fight, no matter how many there are of you!" The tone was desperate, but unyielding. "Get away, or I'll shoot!"

Walking backward, Steve started toward the shelter of the Mercury, where Chin and Ben were ducked down.

"I checked the perimeter," Ben said quietly. "These are the only doors, and there's no way to see inside."

Chin suggested, "Maybe we should call for back-up."

"No! No, we can't risk it—not yet. If Danno should start shooting, we can't risk having someone out here who might return his fire. Besides, holding your fellow officers at bay with a gun is not something I want to have to defend on Danno's personnel record. No, let's keep this quiet for as long as we can."

One exception to that instruction was Duke. Steve had Chin call in Duke Lukela to assist, as another trustworthy extended member of the ohana who would not harm Danny and who would keep the whole event a secret he took to his grave, if need be.

After brainstorming with his men, Steve decided, "We've got to get those barn doors open. Maybe then, he can see us better, and we'll be able to better see his condition, and go from there. Ben, you and I are going up to the outer edges of those double barn doors. You on the left side; I'll be on the right. You're going to unlatch the doors through the crack between them, just as Christopher explained he has them rigged to do. Then, on my mark, we're going to fling those doors open as wide as they will go. Be sure to stand aside when we do it, in case he starts firing; if he does, then the next move is his. If he doesn't fire, then I'm going in after him, hopefully to talk him down. Maybe if he sees me, he'll believe it's me and settle down."

Duke had arrived and as he and Chin huddled behind the Five-O Mercury, Steve and Ben fanned out to approach the front of the barn from the far left and the far right, edging ever closer to the barn doors.

Ben stepped gingerly toward the crack between the two doors, keeping his body as far from the doors as possible, aware that Danny might notice a shadow beneath the door giving away his proximity. He could only hope that Danny's eyes were not glued to the latch at that very moment. With the guile and soundlessness of a cat burglar, Ben slowly inserted an ink pen into the wide crack between the doors, then gently lifted up to unlatch the inside hook. He withdrew the pen, retreated aside to a safer spot, then nodded to Steve of his success.

As with most barns, the doors were solid but not built to be tight around the edges, so there was adequate clearance between the bottoms of the doors and the ground, enough room for a handhold. Steve bent down and cupped the fingers of one hand underneath the bottom lip of the right door. On the other side, Ben mirrored Steve's actions with the left.

At Steve's silent signal, both men pulled his door open with a jerk, walking backwards quickly to get out of the way of the swing. Looking over to where the doors had been at what they expected to be the interior of the barn—and hopefully someone resembling Danny—they both gasped at what they saw instead—an eight-foot barricade in the barn doorway made up of square bales of hay, with about four feet of open clearance above in the extremely tall doorway.

All this registered in an instant, because in the next split-second, rifle-fire from inside the barn cracked open the silence of the tense rural ranch setting with a bang. Steve and Ben scattered widely to the left and right of the building, while Chin and Duke ducked lower in the shadows.

Keeping their distance from the barn's front and now open doors, Steve motioned to Ben to meet him back in safety with the others.

"I can't believe he fired on us! And he doesn't just have his handgun, it's his rifle!" Steve exclaimed as he skid to a stop behind the car where the others were bunched together. "Did anybody see him?"

"All I saw was the rifle flash!"

"I couldn't see anything behind those bales of hay!"

"What is he doing with a rifle in there, anyway? Does he take his rifle along on a horseback ride?" Steve asked in exasperation.

Still catching his breath from the mad dash away from the barn, Ben gestured to the far right of the barn where the Five-O LTD was parked. "Steve, look at the back of Danny's car over there. The trunk is partially open! I bet he grabbed his rifle from there before he went into the barn!"

Grimacing, Chin added, "And probably lots of ammo, too."

Steve's temper erupted at the absurdity of the situation. "I can't believe this! We're hiding from Danno! One of our own! A friend! This is unreal! He's got to come out of there!"

Calming down and peering above the car and toward the barn, Steve added sadly, "Something's very wrong with him. Something for which he shouldn't be held responsible."

He opened the driver's door and reached in for his two-way radio. "Central, this is McGarrett. Patch me through to Dr. Bergman in the Coroner's office."


	3. Chapter 3

"Amnesia, extreme paranoia, sudden personality change…. I don't know what else would likely cause that if not brain trauma," Doc concluded based on Steve's report of Danny's strange behavior. "And it wouldn't have to be an external injury such as a fall. It could be something that was happening in his brain already—such as an aneurysm, a stroke, an abnormal growth…."

Steve and his men looked all the more downcast as they heard Doc's recitation of the horrible possibilities, and Doc couldn't help but notice. "Could be a lot of things, but I do think it's somatic. I don't think it's likely to be some kind of mental breakdown—Danny exhibits no signs whatsoever of instability like that."

Doc Bergman's remote diagnosis of Danny's condition was not easy to hear. At Steve's call, Doc had dropped everything to personally arrive at the scene of the standoff, huddling behind the Mercury with the other Five-O men. With the risk of more gunfire erupting, he had ordered an ambulance to be on standby just outside the gates of the horse ranch.

Options for resolution ran through Steve's mind, most of which he dismissed as too drastic or not available under the circumstances. It occurred to Steve—and not for the first time—how much more difficult it is to resolve a crisis such as this when the use of deadly force is _not_ an option. His tools at the moment were limited to negotiation—convincing Danno of who they were, his safety in their hands, and his need for their help.

"Our best option is to just wait him out. That way, nobody gets hurt. He's eventually got to get tired, hungry—something to make him come out."

Doc's eyes trained on Steve with urgency as he shook his head. "Steve, I disagree. You can't wait for that. Any brain injury should receive immediate treatment. Depending on the cause, his condition could deteriorate rapidly to the point of being _**irreversible**_."

Steve bit his lip at the prognosis and the realization that his one 'easy way out' option had just been scrubbed.

Steve called out again loudly toward the barn. "Danno?" When silence greeted him, he made the same call two or three more times, to no avail.

"He's not responding. Doc, what do you make of this intermittent silence we get from him? Do you think he might have lost consciousness?" Steve asked.

Crouching in safety with the others, Doc made an educated guess. "It's certainly possible, if we're right about a head injury. He may be losing consciousness momentarily, then coming to and becoming aware again of his surroundings. But if I could see him, even from afar, I would be able to make a better judgment of his condition."

An hour passed, with sporadic attempts to communicate with the holed-up detective. Silence was the most frequent response from Danny, punctuated by angry rebukes and intimidating threats. Those on the outside of the barn could see little on the inside due to the hay bale barricade, so his condition and his exact position remained a mystery.

Worried about his friend and impatient to end this untenable standoff, Steve came to a decision.

"OK, gentlemen, we're running out of time. I'm going back up there, right up to the doors. I'm going to talk him out if it's the last thing I do," immediately regretting his choice of words.

"Steve!" Doc grabbed Steve's sleeve urgently as he spoke. "Steve, it's too risky! He has already tried to shoot you—all of you! I know he's our friend, but for whatever reason, Danny is not in his right mind in there. You don't know what he might do."

Slightly amazed that Steve seemed to be listening intently to his uninvited advice and suddenly stunned at the gravity of what he himself was about to say, Doc continued. "I think...," then he paused in apprehension, "I think you ought to try and wing him."

Steve rocked backward on his heels, aghast. "Wing him! Wing him? Doc, I can't believe you just said that! There's no way we're going to shoot him! No matter how good a shot we make, aiming for his hand or his arm, he could move at the last second… the bullet could be swayed by the wind… any number of things could happen that could kill him! No way! Doc! What are you thinking?"

Putting up both his hands to argue, Doc adamantly defended his suggestion. "Steve, I don't want Danny hurt any more than you do! After all, I'll be the one who has to pick up the pieces and put him back together, if I can! But think about it. If you don't try to disable his keen ability to shoot his rifle, you're taking an even bigger chance than Danny will shoot you, or Chin, or any of us out here! And when **you** shoot at him, you'll be working to disable him just enough to slow him down. In his current state of mind, if **he** shoots at you, he'll shoot to kill!"

Letting that sink in to the souls of his rapt audience, which included all the men huddled against this inconceivable adversary, Doc then continued, "And you all know even better than I do that, with a rifle in hand, Danny is an expert shot. He could easily kill any one of us, at any moment."

Staggered by the plain sense of the argument, Steve began to look around at the grim faces of his men.

Chin stared at Steve with eyes pierced with heart-rending pain, waiting to see the indecision on his boss's face mold into a firm verdict.

Ben swallowed hard and looked down as Steve glanced his way, then looked up and slightly shook his head "no".

Duke was stoic, his face unreadable, as Steve tried to decide which was stronger—Duke's practical wisdom or his loyalty to a friend.

Steve looked back to Doc, whose face was pained, but Steve saw there a familiar resoluteness. Steve, like Doc, was accustomed to making difficult decisions involving the very lives of those he either protected or defended against. In this case, his best friend—who was the former—had become the latter.

Pulling his handgun slowly out of its holster, Steve unnecessarily and nervously opened it to check the load. As he did so, all the other men gasped in dismay and disagreement.

"Steve, no, you can't!"

"He's got to! He'll just wound him—Doc's here, he'll be OK!"

"That's Danny in there! Don't do this! Please!"

"If it's got to be done, let's get another marksman from HPD to do it…."

"Steve?" Doc prompted.

His steely eyes grew darker as he slapped his gun chamber closed. "There's no time to get a marksman. Besides, he's one of our own." Steve gulped down his emotion as he solemnly declared, "I'll do it."


	4. Chapter 4

The men fell silent as the choice was made. The tight ohana knew Steve, and they knew there was no turning back now. "Duke, give me a walkie-talkie."

Mentally preparing for the possibility that he could be left in charge, Chin worried, "What if the worst happens, Steve, and Danny shoots you before you shoot him?"

Shuddering at the thought, Steve took a deep breath and replied, "Chin, if that happens, it'll be up to you to get him out. I don't want anybody else to try this—to take this responsibility…," as he uncharacteristically fumbled with his thoughts.

Firmly, he followed up, "If I fail and get hit, make the call for backup, and…," then lost the thought in the emotion of the moment and more gently, eyeing Chin, pleaded, "try not to hurt him."

The other men looked at each other, hoping that the objective was indeed attainable. Steve looked at each of them individually, and Doc said, "Just be careful, Steve."

With a nod, Steve acknowledged the advice and inwardly knew the words were a legitimate warning and that he would be wise to heed them.

After taking another look in front of him at the lay of the barnyard turned battlefield, Steve ran for safety behind another barricade that would put him closer to his target—Dan's LTD. He made it safely with no bullets flying in response.

_Was Danno backing down? Perhaps he had lost consciousness. Maybe he had come to his senses. Or was he lulling his prey into a false sense of security to draw him closer in for the kill?_

Steve's mind swam with the sheer possibilities of what was going on with his friend. His friend! How could he be in this nightmarish position of preparing to shoot Danno? Despite the danger of letting his guard down, he could not help but close his eyes tightly against the fear of hurting the person to whom he had grown closer than anyone before.

In this solitary shelter behind the car, away from the others, he silently prayed to God that Danno would come out of this all right—and that his own aim would be sure.

In the starkness of that moment, he heard himself pray—_that his aim would be sure_. What kind of a prayer was that? Trusting God for the successful aim of a bullet, but not trusting Him that his friend could be verbally negotiated out of his hideout, could be talked into believing what was real over what was imaginary?

In his mind, Steve believed God could command the laws of science to control an inanimate object. But people? Come on! Steve's jaded memory was filled to capacity with a parade of tricky characters on whom he wouldn't bet a plug nickel that there was any supernatural influence on them at all—other than evil.

People! Much too volatile, too unpredictable. Maybe too independent and self-sufficient to let God or anyone else control their actions.

_Independent. Self-sufficient. Volatile. Unpredictable._ Wasn't he describing himself?

_Yes._

And would he put his friend Danno in the same parade of divinely uncontrollable personalities that overflowed his mind?

_No._

Steve opened his eyes to see the dire situation in a new light. It wasn't at all hopeless that Danno could come out of this standoff of his own accord. _I don't have to shoot him._

Steve laid his gun down on the sandy soil. He opened the mike on the walkie-talkie. "Chin, there's been a change of plans."

The crackle of the voice from the walkie-talkie startled the four men hunched behind Steve's Mercury, but not nearly as much as what was said. "I'm going up to the doors, and I'm going to talk to him." It wasn't so much a surprise that Steve could not bear to hurt his friend or that he was willing to risk harm to himself, but that he had backed down from a decision in mid-stream. It didn't happen often.

"I'm going to keep the mike open so you can hear what's going on. Remember what I told you, Chin, if anything happens…. Stand by."

Chin responded simply, "Got it. Be careful."

Slowly, trying to look more confident than he felt, Steve approached the hay barricade. Not wanting to startle Danny, he deliberately walked straight up the middle toward the doorway, actually hoping Danny would see him. As he walked, he strained his eyes to see inside but saw no movement in the dark barn other than from the horses.

He arrived and stood to the outside right of the barricade. "Danno?" he called several times. No response. Not really wanting his friend to be found unconscious due to injury but considering the advantage that would give him, Steve hoped for the best. He dared to start to move one of the top hay bales, to see if he got a reaction—at least enough to know Danny's location inside the large barn.

When there was no reaction, he dared further to progress to moving the whole bale, then another, then another, until he had created an opening large enough to walk through. And so he did.

Steve McGarrett stood just inside the barn and urged his eyes to adjust quickly from the bright afternoon sunshine outside to the shadows inside. When they did, he saw horses as the only live occupants, but there were walls of stalls and other hay bales enough to hide a man behind. As he perused the scene, he heard a voice from above.

"Don't move."


	5. Chapter 5

Steve's eyes followed the sound upward toward the high loft on the left side of the barn's interior.

There he was. Danny was standing solidly on the high surface, his casual clothes dirty, with drips of dried blood marking the side of his hardened face, and his Browning rifle loaded and cocked and aimed straight at Steve.

At this range, if he fired, death would be quick and sure.

"Danno."

"Don't call me that! You're not Steve!"

"Look, don't shoot," Steve said as he raised both his arms in the air, with one hand still holding the walkie-talkie. "I'm not armed. I couldn't shoot you, and **you** won't shoot an unarmed man—I know that about you."

"It's a trick! You're the double! Steve had a double! You're not Steve!"

"My double? The double that Wo Fat created? No, no, the double's dead, Danno. He died in Switzerland, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember…," he answered in a more conciliatory tone than he had all afternoon.

"Danno, listen to me. I want to convince you that I am who I say I am. Do you remember, years ago, when my sister's baby died?"

"When **Steve's** sister's baby died…." The belligerence had returned.

"OK, when **Steve's** sister's baby died…."

Interrupting, Danny insisted, "What's his sister's name?"

"Mary Ann."

"Her last name, too!"

"Whalen. Mary Ann Whalen! She lives in Los Angeles!"

Danny did not respond verbally but nodded in acknowledgement of Steve's answer.

Steve worriedly admonished him, "Listen…, are you listening?"

"I'm listening…." Danny begrudgingly responded.

"After I heard the news about my nephew's death, I wouldn't come out of my office for hours. It was a terrible time for me, especially since my sister had put her trust in that quack lady doctor." He realized he had strayed off track from what he wanted to say. Shaking his head, he continued, "Anyway, everybody went home except you. You came into my office to check on me. You offered me a drink, and I wouldn't take it. You sat with me, talked to me, and listened to me until I had cried out all my grief. Do you remember that?"

Danny stared at Steve_. I remember._

It had been a deeply personal moment between them. He had never before and never since seen Steve in the state he was in that night—crying, aching, doubting himself, and baring his heart and soul in grief to Danny in the dark privacy of the big office.

Steve studied Danny to see if his reminiscence was having any effect. But in his pleading efforts to jog Danny's memory, Steve was forgetting he had an audience.

Listening somberly to Steve's end of the conversation over the open walkie-talkie, Chin, Ben, Duke, and Doc looked at each other with amazement at what Steve had just shared. All of them knew that Steve and Danny were good personal friends, but they had no idea until now of the depth of that bond.

They didn't know that their boss, the man of steel, _could_ cry, _could_ open up his sealed-shut vault of emotion to another living human being and survive to face him every day for years thereafter. And yet, he had. To Danno.

Suddenly the men outside the barn felt they were intruding on a personal moment and should not be listening, but neither could they stop.

"Now, I have never told another soul about that night and how you helped me through that time, and I doubt that you have either. Only you and I have known. Now do you believe it's me?"

Inside the barn, Danny's mind was churning, mixing up what could be the truth with all the mis-firing thoughts of hallucination and injury. As confusion reigned in his head, he began to give in to his bodily weariness, and as he stood there on the shelf-like loft, he started to sway. Danny lowered the rifle just a bit, loosening but not releasing his capable grip on the weapon. "Steve?" he spoke tentatively.

"Yes, Danno?"

"Sorry, but I had to know it was you."

"It's OK, my friend. Now are you ready to come down from there?"

"I was…, I was waiting…, for you, but you need to be careful. There are people with weapons all around us. They want to kill us!"

Worried at the proof of Danny's delusions, Steve swallowed hard then asked, "Danno, do you trust me?"

"Yes, but...," came the response.

"Then believe me, there's no danger from anyone here now. Not now. I need you to come down from there."

"Are you sure it's OK?"

Becoming more anxious by the second about Danny's state, Steve hurriedly encouraged, "Yeah, yeah. It's OK. You can relax."

"Steve," Danny moved his left hand to touch his head and said, "My head really hurts, and I need some help…." He staggered but still gripped the rifle.

Steve reached forward toward Danny intuitively but in fact was not nearly close enough to that high loft to touch or help him. "Danno, don't move. Let me help you down," Steve said as he came within reach of the crude ladder that led to the loft.

Taking the first high step, Steve saw Danny sway again. This time, Danny fell to his knees in the loft. As he did, the cocked rifle he held went off in his hands, with the round escaping through the barn's roof spraying wood splinters everywhere and opening a large gaping hole through which dappled late-afternoon sunlight shown.

At the loud report of the rifle and the sudden shower of splinters from above, the three horses in their barn stalls spooked and began thrashing around, bucking, raising their heads up high, neighing and squealing. The largest one burst out of its stall and charged toward the open end of the barn.

As Steve saw the animals' reactions, he defensively climbed a step further up on the ladder to escape being brushed by the stampeding horse. Then looking upward, he gasped as he saw Danny—oblivious to the turmoil down below—topple over toward the unguarded edge of the loft and fall over its side, into the path of the horse.


	6. Chapter 6

"Danno!" Steve cried out, as the horse galloped right over his friend's prone body and jumped the hay barricade, knocking the top bales out of the way to escape the barn. In the horse's wake lay Danny, face down on the structure's hay-strewn floor.

Steve immediately jumped from the ladder onto the dirt below, rushing to Danno's side. Since his view had been blocked by the blur of the fleeing horse, he did not immediately know whether Danny had been stepped on—_trampled!_

"Doc! Doc! I need some help here! Hurry!" Afraid to turn him over, Steve felt for Danno's carotid pulse and thankfully found it beating. "Danno, Danno, can you hear me?" Steve pleaded, but Danny was unmoving and unresponsive.

Ben inched up and made sure there was no danger before edging his way around the hay bales and quickly hefting them easily out of the way as he made way for Dr. Bergman to enter, followed by Duke and Chin.

Rushing to Danno's side, Doc also checked Danno's carotid pulse and palpated his neck and limbs to determine the extent of the injuries. As he did so, he sought more information, "Did he get trampled by that horse?"

Panicking, Steve shouted to Doc above the noise of the remaining horses' clatter. "I don't know! I don't know if he was stepped on, but he did fall from the loft! I was up on the ladder, the gun went off, the horses spooked, and Danno fell into the horse's path! Even before that, though, he was hurt, unsteady on his feet, and he complained that his head hurt!"

Doc heard Steve's account but continued his triage. He grimaced and bit his lip as he noticed the slight trickle of blood from Danny's ear. He checked Danny's eyes and noted the irregular pupils. "Duke, get that ambulance in here!"

Concerned, Duke suggested, "Do you need a chopper?"

Doc sighed and admitted, "Yes, but it would take too long to get it in the air. Tell the ambulance personnel to move fast and get the backboard ready!"

"Doc?" Steve asked in desperation.

Doc answered as he evaluated his patient. "This soft dirt helped to cushion his fall, Steve, but he's still got possible fractures. His head injury is already bad. Who knows what's damaged internally. Let's just get him to the hospital as quickly as we can. I can't do much out here!"

An eternity seemed to pass before the ambulance arrived at the hospital. Unfortunately, with the medic and Dr. Bergman in the ambulance bay with the patient, there had been no room for Steve McGarrett to be with Danny on the way there. He followed behind in his own car, siren blaring, urging the ambulance on to greater speeds and quicker turns. Chin Ho followed Steve, driving Danny's LTD back into town.

Steve wished he could know what was happening in the vehicle ahead of him. Instead, he used his car radio to communicate with Ben and Duke, who had stayed behind at the ranch to pick up the pieces of the mystery of what had happened with Danny today.

Duke had retrieved Danny's rifle from the loft—and his ample supply of ammunition. The owner David Christopher had rounded up the spooked horse that had possibly trampled Danny and returned her to her stall. Even the other horse which Danny had ridden earlier in the day had returned to the barn on her own, eventually. Ben reported that she arrived with her saddle askew, an indication that Danny had indeed probably taken his initial fall from atop the horse. It was beginning to get dark outside, so there was little else they could do investigatively at the ranch beyond the immediate vicinity of the barn.

Arriving at the hospital, Steve was only a few steps behind those emerging from the ambulance. He quickly jockeyed for position to see how Danny had fared on the trip. It was difficult to tell.

In fact, had he not known it was Danny, he wouldn't have recognized him. His neck was encompassed by a cervical collar. Tape ran across his forehead down to the backboard to keep his head from moving. An oxygen mask obscured his boyish facial features, but Steve could see his face was bruised purple where it was not deathly pale. A blanket was tucked tightly around his body, except for his arms, where on one a blood pressure cuff was visible and on the other an IV line had been inserted and secured with medical tape.

And, worse yet, there was more blood than before, from his ears, nose, and mouth.

As the medics quickly guided the gurney through the emergency entrance and down the hall, Doc Bergman stayed close at every step, rarely taking his eyes from his patient, and ignoring the tall dark-haired detective who hovered nearby. However, when they neared the examination room, Doc took notice and turned to halt him from following them.

"Steve, you know you can't come any further. We'll let you know what we find out."

"Doc, at least give me an update. Did he regain consciousness at all?"

Hurriedly, the crusty physician summarized, "Not at all. I can tell you his vital signs are strong. But I suspect he has a skull fracture, probably from the first fall. I've got a neurologist coming in to see him, stat. We've still got to evaluate him for broken bones and internal injuries, but the brain trauma must be addressed first."

"So, bottom line, Doc: Is he going to be all right?"

"I can't answer that now. Be patient."

Steve felt and looked strangely helpless and bereft. Doc even paused in his own preoccupation with Danny's treatment to notice and address him more gently. "Steve, you did well talking him down. But you had no control over his fall or the trampling. Let's be grateful that we're not also considering the impact of a gunshot wound in him, or anyone else on the team."

"I know." Steve's countenance perked up just a bit, primarily for Doc's sake. "Just let me know something as soon as you can."

"You know I will." With that and a reassuring squeeze of Steve's arm, Doc entered the exam room and closed the door firmly behind him.

As when he followed the ambulance and could not be with his aikane, here again Steve was left out, not knowing from moment to moment whether he should strive to be hopeful or prepare himself for the worst.

Chin came down the hall and Steve met him halfway to update him and walk with him back toward the waiting room. He put his arm around Chin's shoulders as they walked slowly, as Steve felt the need to be close to another member of the Five-O ohana. In view of possibly losing one of their own, he wanted to appreciate all of them as he seldom did—overtly, openly, as if this were his last chance.

The hours ticked by slowly. It was nearing midnight, and the Five-O family remained at the hospital, waiting to hear about Danny's condition. He had been taken to surgery shortly after being seen by the neurologist, who diagnosed bleeding in the brain that had to be repaired immediately. Likely caused by a fall from the horse, it was assumed to be the reason for Danny's disorientation and paranoid behavior in the barn.

Then there was the second fall. At last report, Doc believed that Danny had not suffered any major spinal injuries. Ever since, Steve had cursed himself for not recognizing that imminent danger as soon as he saw Danno in the loft, even though he was being held at gunpoint during those moments and could have been shot at any time.

Add to that the trampling. Doc had confirmed that massive bruising showed Danny had indeed borne the brunt of at least one thunderous stomp from the stampeding horse. They would examine him further for internal injuries but already knew of broken ribs in his chest and back.

Bleeding, bruised, and broken—that's the image of Danno that plagued McGarrett's mind as he dragged his drained body around pacing the waiting area. He only hoped he would not have to add to that laundry list the ultimate harm—brain damage, or death.

All due to common circumstances. Nobody's fault, no bad guys to pursue, no justice to seek out. Just the irony of a deadly standoff between friends that would remain hidden from the records of this day.

Dan Williams had two bad falls on his time off. That is how his injuries would be truthfully explained to anyone who needed to know. Among those who mattered, there might or might not be understanding that an injury caused some unusual behavior in him, but there was no sense in taking a chance in marring a fine officer's record. Everyone directly involved agreed to a code of silence about the more difficult details, even David Christopher, the ranch owner and Danny's friend, who had also been in attendance at the hospital during the evening.

It was approximately 3:00 am when Doc brought news from surgery at last. It was over and had gone well. The neurosurgeon was cautious but very encouraging that Danny would recover from his head injuries.

Less than an hour later, Steve and Doc stood by Danny's bedside. "Everything will heal, Steve…but it will take time. It's really quite a miracle that his injuries aren't any worse. When I saw him down on the floor of the barn like that…, I really wondered how he could make it.., but you Five-0 guys are a tough bunch."

"And you're a good doctor. Thank you for all you did for him, and for being there with us this afternoon. He might not have made it this far if you hadn't dropped everything and joined us at the barn."

Leaning in toward Steve, Doc spoke in a low voice, not taking the chance someone might overhear him, "Hey, I was the one who thought you should wing him." He smiled and added more seriously, "I'm glad you didn't take my advice. Talking him down was the best thing. You wouldn't have forgiven yourself if something had gone wrong. "

Feeling somewhat guilty anyway that his protégé had not come out totally unscathed, Steve tried to be philosophical. "Yeah, well, something still did go wrong, but everything happens for a reason, Doc…, I think."

"I believe it does. Believe me, Steve, things could have gone much worse, and I'm glad for both of you that it didn't." Doc turned to look pensively at Steve. "Danny's good for you, Steve. I think you need him more than you realize."

Steve self-consciously shuffled his feet and, looking down, smiled. "Oh, I realize it plenty, Doc." Doc thought he saw Steve's eyes water a bit at the admission but knew better than to mention it.

In the elaborate hospital bed, bandaged and still barely recognizable, Danny began to stir, raising his hands to the siderails of the bed as if to sit up.

"Hold it there, young man. You're not going anywhere. You're bound to have one heck of a headache," Doc surmised.

Danny's right hand went to his head, only to feel the fresh bandages from the surgery. "Yeah…," Danny complained with a grimace.

Edging closer to his friend's side, Steve spoke, "Danno?"

Squinting against the room's dim light, Danny peeked out from behind heavy eyelids and replied, "Steve?"

"Yeah, bruddah. How are you feeling?" His voice was atypically soft and reassuring.

Danny's usually high pain threshold had been surpassed in too many places to hide it. He swallowed hard and said, "I hurt. My head… my back… I'm sore all over."

Steve was newly alarmed, since Danny almost never complained of pain, no matter what his injuries. He looked over at Doc Bergman, who shrugged and said, "I'm not surprised, Danny. You've had a couple of bad tumbles."

Innocently, Danny asked, "What did I do? Wipe out?"

Steve and Doc looked hard at him and then at each other. Finally Doc responded, "No, you weren't surfing today. You mean you don't remember what happened?"

"No," he said firmly, not even opening his eyes this time.

"Well, I suspect it will come back to you eventually," Doc said matter-of-factly.

Opening his eyes, "So, what was it?" Danny insisted, despite his infirmity's grip on his senses.

"In a nutshell, Danno, you fell off a horse, and fell again from a loft at the barn at David Christopher's place, where you then got trampled," Steve bluntly explained, leaving out a few critical details.

The explanation took slow root in Danny's injured mind but finally jelled enough for a slurred but incredulous reply, "Are you serious? A wipeout would have been simpler."

"Yeah…," Steve agreed, then added more softly, more to Doc than to Danny, "and that's not the half of it."

Groggily, Danny asked, "What, Steve? I didn't hear you."

Steve chuckled. "Oh, nothing. We'll talk about it later. In the meantime, you'd better get some rest so you'll feel better."

Danny murmured an 'OK' and slipped away into a sedated sleep. To Doc once again, Steve spoke, "Well, I guess we have one less person to worry about keeping today's events quiet," to which Doc gave a conspiratorial nod.

A good forty-eight hours passed with Danny improving steadily. His bruises had darkened, so he didn't look much better, but some of his swelling had gone down at least. He had begun to move around more, even though it was obviously painful. His speech was more clear, but his memory of the events at the barn had not returned.

Steve had determined it best so far not to try to further explain the events at the barn to Danny but instead to concentrate on his continuing recovery. To others, fortunately, the cover story—basically true—of Danny's falls on his day off had proven quite believable and had not been questioned.

Steve arrived at the hospital late today after work to check in with his friend. This was the first time he had not spent most of the day at the hospital since the frightful incident.

He was pleased to see Danny sitting up in a chair, trying to look comfortable. He had had a busy day, with lots of visitors and multiple attempts at normal activities which were at best challenging to him in his condition.

After some light conversation, it appeared to Steve that Danny's comfort level was reaching its limit, and he was unable to hide his fatigue. Steve helped him out of the chair and back into the hospital bed.

The transfer from the chair to the bed was painful. Crashing back against the bed pillows, Danny thanked Steve for the assistance. "I appreciate the help, Steve. I guess you've seen me at my worst more than once, huh?"

Steve answered with sarcasm, "Oh, is this your worst?—I hadn't noticed."

"Maybe not. Maybe it was worse the other day when you had to talk me down in that barn." Danny smiled knowingly over at Steve's surprise.

Stunned at the revelation, Steve asked, "So you remember now?"

"No, I still don't," Danny smiled through pained expression. "Doc Bergman told me about it. He confessed today that he encouraged you to shoot me—and you wouldn't do it."

A little exasperated at the conversation taking place out of his presence, Steve reacted in typical brusque fashion. "Doc's been talking too much. Maybe that's why his specialty is with patients who don't have to listen to him."

Danny brushed aside what he knew was a joking response. "I think it was bothering him. He needed to get it off his chest, so he told me all about it. I already knew I hadn't heard the whole story. Why didn't **you** tell me?"

"I would have eventually. Now I think it's time we both got some sleep. I'm sure you'll have another busy day tomorrow getting better, and I'll have a busy day covering the office with one less detective."

"You're right. I'm beat. You wouldn't think lying around all day would make a guy so tired."

"Just get some sleep. I'll come by after work tomorrow evening and check on you, but call me if you need something."

"Steve?" as he stiffly arranged himself into a somewhat comfortable position.

"Yeah, Danno?"

"I'm sorry about everything. I still don't know what happened to make me act so crazy. I'm sorry I put you in that position—ya' know, threatened you—all of you."

_Threatened? That's putting it mildly._ "You were hurt. You didn't know what you were doing. Now go to sleep."

"Doc said you're going to keep the details quiet—to protect me."

"Not if he keeps blabbing to everybody about it. He's on my list of people to talk to tomorrow."

"Steve?"

"Danno, when are you going to stop talking so you can rest? It's all water under the bridge now anyway."

"Just one more thing." Danny closed his eyes as he spoke wearily. "You were right. I never told anybody—not anybody—about what happened—with your nephew."

Steve stopped in his tracks. He suddenly felt a little embarrassed that Doc had acknowledged having heard the story over the walkie-talkie, and at the memory of his emotional breakdown, in front of Danno, at the loss of his sister's infant son.

Resolving the embarrassment internally, he mused._ I guess we've both seen each other at our worst, huh, Danno? _

Steve finally responded, "I never thought you did, my friend. It wouldn't have mattered if you had." He really meant that, and it surprised him.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, ya' know," Danny added as he drowsily settled further down into the crisp sheets.

Steve smiled at how much more easily Danny had always dealt with emotion than he had and yet how it had never diminished his stature in Steve's eyes. "I know. Now get some sleep, huh?"

Although he originally meant to leave as soon as Danny had fallen asleep, Steve lingered and changed his mind, sitting down in the bedside chair, near the window, to think. His eyes moistened at the thought of the friendship he shared with his colleague and what he learned daily from him.

_Maybe letting some few people get close enough to see you at your worst helps you to be at your best when it's most important._ It was a lesson the man of steel needed to learn, and he felt that maybe he just had truly taken it to heart. His face now was moist, too, and in the scheme of things, it didn't seem to matter.

PAU


End file.
